I just hit myself in the face three times.. k, two more in the left.. think I might be on the right way to sober. Wait, no. Still tipsy.
Guess I’m back to Journal Entries.
July 6th, 2011.
After reading entries from ‘07-‘10 on the old myspace account I feel obligated to write. Probably based more on the shameful content. Back then I was very proud of my work. Maybe because I found a medium where I could openly express myself. Lets be honest, a lot of my writing was shit. Explosive rants of a depressed teenager, but an outlet nonetheless. Even then there were exceptions, I guess. Some poems and a few ‘chapters’ of failed short stories showed an obvious creative ability. Things have changed though. I have changed.
I still—and probably always will—have a desire to write. My path isn’t as clear now as I had naively believed back then. There is a lot of doubt on my part as to if this is really my…calling? When people ask what I would like to write about, I honestly shoot blanks from a toy gun at my cerebellum. In the creative writing section, novels are definitely out of the question. Short stories would be a possibility if I wasn’t so scatter-brained. My previous attempts almost always intertwined with my day-to-day life. The diary-style thoughts would seep into the paragraphs. This coincides seamlessly with my poetry as an emotional outlet. As far as writing professionally there’s a smoldering fear that seems to gain flame that I may not be able to write subjectively.
Oh, Lord, and don’t forget the sub-conscious side. Near constant writer’s block spawned from anxieties. “Will I fulfill expectations? Do I really know what I’m writing about? Can I even write intelligently on the matter?” The worst part of spilling the beans on these doubts… I have no fall back. Writing has always been such an important part of my life that I never considered anything else. Honestly, I think I’m falling again.
The person on the electric chair was Ruth Snyder, a woman convicted of killing her husband for insurance money. In 1928, this was a sensational story followed by a tragic verdict – Ruth Snyder would become the first woman to be electrocuted since 1899.
Photographers are not permitted into executions in the United States. For the Ruth Snyder case, the New York Daily News was desperate to get pictures; so they hired a Chicago Tribune photographer Tom Howard. On the day of her execution (12 January 1928), Howard, posing as a writer, arrived early in Sing Sing Prison and took up a vantage position. A miniature camera was strapped to his left ankle, the shutter release button was concealed within his jacket. As Snyder’s body shook from the jolt, Howard hoisted his pant leg and secretly snapped with a one-use camera.
It is still the only photo taken of an execution in the United States. 
kayfabe
(Source: staree)
What’s the biggest risk you’ve ever taken? Are you glad you took it or do you regret it?
I went down to Statesboro once. A little town an hour outside of Savannah, GA, that is best known for Georgia Southern University. That and the fact that the nearest Wally-World is maybe 20 miles away. lol. But I am very very very glad that I had gone. This experience away from the safety of home and parental care is what I needed to set my priorities straight. A two year depression that lasted too long already came to an end, and yeah, I make mistakes still, but I know where I am going. I love the people I met down there, and I love my family even more so for letting me go! A smart man knows there is nothing in one’s life to ever regret, but just another lesson to learn from.
Who gives a shizzle mah dizzle nizzle about hot cocoa in the Summer?!
Except you guys South of the equator. You don’t count.
If I don’t get it, I’ll be good.
(Source: the-unfeatured)
Barack Obama
(via loveyourchaos)
Hell yeah, BRObama!
(Source: gaywrites)
